No One Would Believe Us Anyways
by Miharu is Haruka's Love Child
Summary: They sat beneath the tree, silent, as God dusted the blackened sky with glittering stars—-hope symbols, as Mello had called them. But hope was for children and fools, and Matt was neither of those. He didn't believe in miracles. M/M
1. The Letter

Chapter 1: The letter

Author's rant: EFFING FINALS EFFING SUCK DICK. *cough* so, teenage angst anyone?

_General note to everyone: The religious views expressed in this piece (whether in this or future chapters) are not a reflection of the author's personal spiritual beliefs and she should not be held accountable for them if they are found to be offensive. Please, do not be offended. This is fan fiction, no need to get so worked up. Thank you._

Note to Dlvvanzor—No one would believe _us_ either. ^^"

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Mello quietly slipped the envelope in front of the door. It said one word: Matt. He knew the redhead would find it later. He was relieved that he didn't have to hand it to him face to face...it would have made leaving _that_ much more difficult. Having no more business in the house, he picked up his sack and left. The iron gates of Wammy's house swung behind him as he walked off into the night.

Matt didn't notice the envelope until he slipped on it. He'd been paying too much attention to the Gameboy in his hands to look at junk people left on the floor. He nearly tossed it out except that it had his name on it. He opened the letter to read...

Dear Matt, (wow that sounds corny)

This is a love letter. STFU! That doesn't make me the girl here. Stop laughing, idiot. I'm not bitching at you, Jesus! Stop leaning over my shoulder; you're ruining my moment. XD

It's funny how things work out. You and me. Us. In _love._ I don't think anyone would believe us if we told them our story. Do you remember how we met? No, I am _not _calling you stupid, it's a reminiscing device you fucktwit. That's right, laugh at my rhetoric. Let's see you laughing later when _you're_ the one cuffed to the bedpost. Tch. Thought so.

Really though, do you remember the day we met? I still remember the message that appeared on my desktop: joo haz b33n h4xord by M477.

God, I wanted to strangle the fuggin' pissbrain who dared break into my computer. Only problem was I couldn't figure out who you were. We ended up playing mind games for weeks through IM's and shit until you finally let slip that you were in the attic the entire time. I had no fucking clue that Roger let anyone sleep up there and since you never came out or even went to classes, no one else knew about you either. How many people did you play with like that before anyone challenged you back like I did? I loved having to break the little virus codes you kept putting in my system…god that was so long ago.

Do you remember the first time we met in person? You wore a paper bag over your head so I couldn't see your face. I ripped it in two while you were still wearing it. And then we just kind of stared at each other. You said my name very tentatively and I repeated yours and there was just a moment of us losing ourselves in that brush of lips because you couldn't help kissing me. I know it was darkish in the attic, and I know you apologized a million times, but I still feel guilty for giving you that black eye: everyone mistakes me for a girl at first and I shouldn't have reacted like that. I think I was just scared…scared of the fact that I could have been developing feelings for you.

Then we became friends and I forced your ass to leave that stuffy room and enjoy breathing _clean_ air for a few hours each day. We became close and we'd joke around. So much sexual innuendos…and then we'd go a little too far for it to be jokes. But we wouldn't say anything. We just kept playing off of it like nothing was out of the ordinary…until I asked you if we were still joking and you said you weren't sure anymore…and we ended up avoiding each other out of the awkwardness.

Do you realize I got fucking depressed at the thought of spending time away from you? I don't care if we still talked on the computer; it didn't make up for having you there in front of me. And then you went and said the thing that scared me most…you told me you loved me.

I don't know how many times I've prayed to God since you've told me those three words. And every time I do, a little more of my faith seems to die. I don't want to talk to God. I don't want to read my Bible. I don't want to deal with the guilt of knowing that I can't touch you, can't look at you, can't want you, can't _love _you without his disapproval. I don't want to have to look you in the eyes and say that I can't go to Hell for you. So I'm ignoring him. I know he's there, but I don't want to deal with him now…and I guess that just makes what I'm about to do even easier…

Matt I'm leaving. I'm leaving everything and everybody…including you.

By the time you read this, I'll be gone. Since you're reading this, I guess L must be dead, because the only reason I'd give you this letter is if he died. Yeah, I'm kind of fucked up like that…making this thing in advance, preparing for a future that will probably happen and yet avoiding the direct confrontation. You know me. I won't hesitate to leave if it happens…I'm just sorry it had to come to this. I'm sorry you have to be reading this shit at all….and I'm sorry that I'm saying goodbye like this.

I'm sorry that I'll never feel those lips on mine again.

I'm sorry that you'll hate me and always remember me as the weak one who couldn't back down from a wrong decision.

I'm sorry. For everything. I'm a bastard, I know. I'm a fucked up coward. There I said it.

And I'm scared too.

Just…don't fucking do anything stupid, okay? Don't try to follow me.

I'm not telling you where I'm going.

I'm not.

Fucking it! Don't even try anything stupid, you asshole, it's hard enough leaving without having to worry how the hell you're gonna cope with me being gone.

I fucking love you, damn it. I do, truly, I love you more than life itself. That's why I can't take you with me. I can't have someone there to come home to at the end of the day. I can't have a heart anymore. I can't have a conscience anymore. I can't…I can't care about anyone else anymore. So just deal with it.

I'm going to make my own way. You should find yours too.

-Mello

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A/N: thanks for reading. review if you have a chance, thank you! ^^


	2. Vision in White

Vision in White

A/N: Changed summary XD. Ah…this chapter is a little...weird? yeah. but that's how it has to be for the plotline XD

Para mi diosa. Mi alma, mi corazón, mi amor…todo es para ti.

Music suggestion: _Celebrate Mistakes_ and _These Things_ by Number One Gun. Or if you're in a mood for something rather angsty, _Fingernails _by Skillet. It's very emo!Mello-esque. ha!

Thank you reviewers, ^^"

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Matt stared at the vacant room. Remnants of the bedside lamp lay in scatter-plot across the desk. Papers and open books cluttered what was left of the table's surface—part of it was sticking through the adjacent wall. The bed had been overturned and the wardrobe ransacked. A copy of the_ Bible_ was sticking out from where it had been angrily shoved right through a computer monitor. Matt wondered how Mello hadn't started a fire in his rampage to thrash every inch of the place. Everything in the room was broken, including the redheaded boy who stood in the center.

Gingerly, he lifted up a small set of rosary beads from where they lay in a corner. A few of them had cracks running through and the cross had completely shattered near the base. Matt rubbed the little glass shards between his thumb and index finger, ignoring the tiny cuts they left on his skin. Cold air blew in from the screen-less window (it had been torn off months ago and Roger hadn't replaced it). The boy made his way to the window and stared out into the darkening grounds.

"You selfish selfish bastard. You never stop and think about how you affect everyone else. I hate you!" and with that he flung the rosary through the window and into the shadow that fell across the snowy grounds.

His eyes followed the necklace involuntarily until they landed at the base of a tree. Matt stared at the spot for a few minutes, determined not to retrieve it. He had _some_ sense of dignity, after all.

"Who am I kidding?" Matt slapped himself and ran to beat the last rays of sun as they descended on Winchester.

For the rest of Wammy's, the orphans remained consumed in a flurry to cram a few more chapters in before the dinner bell. Some of the less studious children noticed Matt as he ran through the hallways…but few of them actually knew who he was and even fewer cared about whatever his plight might be. No one had ruined the perfect balance of their world yet. No one had told them that L was dead. Roger was a man with normal selfish needs, and wanted time to grieve a little before throwing the rest of the House into chaos. As it was, he'd just made boy soldiers out of Near and Mello…he could let the rest be children for a while longer…

There was just enough light for Matt to find his way to the tree outside of Mello's window. He threw himself at the base and began sifting through the thin layer of snow until his fingers brushed the beads of that rosary. The redhead sighed in relief and touched his mouth to the cross, ignoring the sharp edge as it stole a drop of blood from his lips. He whispered words he didn't understand. Some prayer he'd heard Mello recite a million times in broken Hungarian. Matt had secretly memorized it, but never bothered to learn the meaning behind the words. He just repeated the mantra, every word giving him an image of Mello to hold onto. He knelt there for a long time in the snow, absorbed in his thoughts and his pain.

"Please come back."

He knew the words were empty, but he said them anyways.

Cold fingers touched his shoulder and he jumped, arms flailing around. In his panic, he dropped the rosary and slipped on his butt.

"Fucking shit. What the hell was your idea sneaking up on me?" He spat, before really looking at whoever the intruder was.

It was a kid Matt didn't recognize, but the thought immediately left him as he realized he'd dropped the beads. He turned his attention to the ground and frantically searched.

"Looking for this?"

He turned his attention back to the voice. The outstretched hand held Mello's rosary. He snatched it and pocketed it, only to pull it out again. There was something terribly wrong with it. Matt held it up to stare at it; not a bead was cracked and the cross was intact. This wasn't Mello's rosary.

"This isn't mine," he said, handing it back to the little girl in front of him.

She merely smiled and pushed it into his palms again, "Are you sure?"

"Do you take me for an idiot? The cross I was looking for had cracks in it. It was broken all over. This one doesn't even look like…Mello's…" Matt stopped as she turned the cross over and he saw the little markings on it. There was a small M and K on the back of the cross…in the same spots he knew were on Mello's. But…it couldn't be Mello's rosary, could it?

"That was such a beautiful prayer, Matt. I'm sure God heard every word."

"H..how do you know my name? And how do you know what I was saying?"

"God knows everything," she pointed up to the sky, "and he sent me here to help you."

"That's the stupid shit I've heard all day."

"I'm an angel, Matt."

He didn't answer. The redhead stared at the strange creature before him. She was pale and wearing only a thin white nightdress. Blonde. Bony. Barefoot. The snow should have gone right through the fabric, but every inch of her was dry. She wasn't glowing and she hadn't sprouted wings or anything.

"Sit." She told him. He wasn't sure why, but he did.

They sat beneath the tree, silent, as God dusted the blackened sky with glittering stars—hope symbols, as Mello had called them. But hope was for children and fools, and Matt was neither of those. He didn't believe in miracles. He didn't know why the rosary was fixed, but he didn't like the answers he imagination supplied. The girl was obviously crazy and he shouldn't trust her.

Fuck his desperation!

"God isn't real and if he was, he wouldn't send you here without a reason," he spat.

"Correct. There is something he wants you to do."

"Don't fuck with me. Prove that you are an angel. Bring Mello back."

She looked at him impassively before speaking, "I cannot bring Mello back…"

Of course she couldn't. Because God wasn't real and she was just messing with him. Miracles didn't happen. Mello wasn't coming back. He was probably going crazy and talking to a hallucination...and he even _that _was screwier than it needed to be.

"…because I am bringing you to him." She placed her hand on his and pried open his fingers.

Matt glanced down at the object as it was slowly warming his hands.

The rosary was glowing. Definitely hallucinating.

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Was that uh…too weird? XD

Thanks for reading. Review if you have a chance. ^^"


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